Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations
by OtakuLibra
Summary: She had her mother's ears and her father's eyes. He has his mother's eyes and his father's ears. She has been through this before, and there are things she needs him to know. Gen, mentions of T'Pol/Tucker and events in Enterprise.


**So I was watching Enterprise this morning, and my muse decided to have a spazz attack and force me into this. Blame her. Technically, it's part of the "I Brought You My Bullets" series, but you can take it as whatever you want. No background necessary. Enjoy. **

**Stardate 2240.06**

"You are sulking, _pi'veh_," she says as she approaches, heavy, Starfleet-issue black boots tapping on the stone floor. "It does not become you."

The boy turns, soft green blush coloring his cheeks. His eyes are huge, dark brown and sad.

"_The doctor said she has my eyes and your ears."_

He has Amanda Grayson's eyes, she must remind herself. Not Trip's.

Spock bows his head slightly, a gesture of concealment as much as politeness. "My apologies, Commander T'Pol."

She sighs, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. It gives her a better vantage point, allows her to see his face, read his reactions; she cannot, even now, resist gaining the tactical advantage in any situation. She has been in Starfleet—more or less—for almost ninety years. This is… An unfortunate side-effect, now that she is a minister of the Science Directorate.

"No apology is necessary, Spock-kam. I confess," she says, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I simply wished for some fresh air. All those diplomats…"

Spock's eyebrow rises almost to his hairline. It's a grin, she decides. It's funny, how over the years she has come to translate Vulcan gestures to a Terran equivalent. T'Pol quirks an eyebrow back, and Spock seems to relax. His eyes soften.

"I do not understand how my father is capable of being an ambassador," Spock admits, voice pitched low, as if he is afraid of being overheard. T'Pol wishes to hug him, but she knows so Human an action would not be accepted. He reminds her somewhat of herself, of the way she was when she first joined the _Enterprise_.

"You are not one to suffer fools, Spock-kam," she tells him. "This is not a flaw, if you do not allow it to cloud your judgment of others. Do not lower yourself, but do not underestimate anyone. If there is anything I have learned, it is that one's first impressions are rarely to be taken as infallible."

Spock looks at his hands. "I thank you for your wisdom, Commander."

T'Pol has the strange impulse to laugh at that. How Human she has become. Trip would never let her live it down.

The familiar ache pools in her stomach. She accepts it, lets it go. She takes deep breaths and hopes Spock will not notice a fluctuation in behavior. It has become easier, over the years, but little. Her hours spent in meditation have increased since her last mission aboard the _Enterprise_.

"There is no need for thanks, _pi'veh_. And this is hardly wisdom as your teachers would define it."

Spock looks up now, curiosity bright in his eyes. He will make a fine scientist yet. His mind is sharp.

_You know, for a surrogate kid, you could do worse._

It is Trip's voice. It echoes through her, like her voice reverberating down the empty corridors of the first starship _Enterprise_, so many years ago now. The emotion is less acute these days—a dull ache. T'Pol breathes.

Still—

_It's okay that he reminds you of her. _

T'Pol is not so sure. But she cannot deny that he does. It is only—He has Amanda Grayson's eyes, not Trip's.

"Why would they not define it so?" he asks, eyebrows bunched together in concentration. "It seems logical. And it follows the principle of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations."

T'Pol allows a small tic at the corner of her lips. "Yes, Spock-kam. It does. However, many Vulcans do not wish to alter their worldview in such a way. Do you understand this?"

He does; she knows. She can see it in his face, even were she not aware of how the other children treat him. She aches for him as if he were her own child. It _could_ have been her own child. In a different time.

Spock cocks his head, right eyebrow raised. He is studying her. It is perhaps a more uncomfortable situation than it should have been; it still amazes T'Pol how Human she has become.

She should tell him. She needs to tell him. She _wants _to tell him. If there is any other being in this universe who will understand, it is Spock, young as he is. He should know.

"Eighty-five years ago today," she begins, aware that her voice is somewhat shaky. She takes a breath, steadying her heartbeat as best she can. Spock waits, patient.

_Tell him, T'Pol. _

It hurts. It is a broken bond—two broken bonds. Wounds long since cauterized, quarantined behind mental walls. There are still scars, white hot and aching.

Another breath.

_You can do this. _

Another.

"It was worse, once. Vulcans were so distrustful of Terrans that we almost cut ourselves off completely, almost never became part of the Federation. Eventually, we came to see the error of that position. We were one of the founding members of the Federation, as you know."

"You were there," Spock says, wonder plain in his eyes. "What was it like, Commander?"

"Amazing," she replies. "Think of… Meditation. The moment when the external world becomes blank around you, when you no longer even feel yourself breathing. The moment the universe is broken down to pure, perfect logic. Think of IDIC in its basest, absolute sense. That is what it was like. We did not lose ourselves when we joined the Federation, Spock-kam. We simply… Became part of a larger, more inclusive whole."

Spock nods. "I understand, Commander."

"Good," she says with as much affection and admiration as she can convey.

They are silent for a moment as they watch the sun sink low beyond the desert, over Mount Seleya.

"I had a child once," she says, her voice soft, so soft. "She died. Eighty-five years ago today. Her name was Elizabeth."

"That is Terran," Spock observes quietly, watching her. T'Pol nods.

"Yes. Her father was Human."

She looks up, watches him react, emotions warring within him. She lifts her hand to his chin, raising his face up until he is looking in her eyes. "You are not alone, Spock-kam. No matter what you may think, no matter what they may tell you. Never let them think less of you because you are part human."

T'Pol can no longer stand the intense look on Spock's face, the way he vacillates between hope and sorrow. She fingers the IDIC pendant around her neck thoughtfully, stroking the well-worn grooves in the metal.

"I grieve with thee, Commander," Spock whispers.

"I thank thee, Spock-kam." She reaches over and tousles his hair. A Human gesture, but the touch is enough for T'Pol to project her affection, to make him understand what it means.

"I must return," Spock says after a long pause. "It is late, and my mother will be looking for me."

"Of course."

He kneels in front of her for a moment before he goes, green flush once again blooming across his cheeks.

"Today is the day of my birth," he says.

It is funny, in an ironic sort of way. Trip would have appreciated it. T'Pol finds it bittersweet. She is glad that the universe has Spock; he will be great, one day. He is special. However, she cannot contain her grief that the universe was never able to know how great her daughter could have been.

"Happy Birthday, Spock."

"I thank thee, Commander."

When the door slides closed behind him, T'Pol looks out into the stars she loved so well, the worlds she once explored, and hums a Vulcan lullaby.


End file.
